The Vampire's Assistant and Other Tales from the Cirque Du Freak

by Darren Shan

  “Relax,” Evra laughed. “You’ve only been sitting here ten minutes. It’s still early.”

  I checked my watch — he was right. “I can’t go through with this,” I groaned. “I’ve never been out with a girl before. I’ll mess it up. She’ll think I’m boring.”

  “Don’t get so wound up,” Evra said. “You want to go out with her, and you are going out with her, so why worry?”

  I started to answer him, but was interrupted by Debbie knocking on the door. Forgetting my nerves in a second, I jumped up to let her in.

  Chapter Seven

  I HAD EXPECTED DEBBIE TO DRESS UP, but she was in a pair of jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, wrapped in a long, heavy coat.

  I noticed she was wearing a pair of red gloves.

  “You found the gloves?” I asked.

  She made a face. “They were in my room all along.” She groaned. “They’d fallen behind the radiator. Of course, I only found them after I’d told Mom about walking around outside without them.

  “Are your father and brother here?” she asked.

  “Mr. Cre — I mean, Dad’s out. Evra’s in.” I paused. “There’s something you should know about Evra.” I said.

  “What?”

  “He’s not like other people.”

  “Who is?” Debbie laughed.

  “You see,” I began to explain, “Evra’s a —”

  “Look,” Debbie interrupted, “I don’t care what kind of an odd bod he is. Just take me in and make the introductions.”

  “Okay.” I grinned shakily and gestured for her to enter. Debbie swished confidently ahead of me. A couple of steps into the room, she spotted Evra and stopped.

  “Wow!” she exclaimed. “Is that a costume?”

  Evra smiled nervously. He was standing in front of the TV, arms crossed stiffly.

  “Debbie,” I said, “this is Evra, my brother. He’s —”

  “Are those scales?” Debbie asked, surging forward.

  “Uh-huh,” Evra said.

  “Can I touch them?” Debbie asked.

  “Sure,” Evra told her.

  She ran her fingers up his left arm — he was wearing a T-shirt — and down his right.

  “Wow!” Debbie gasped. “Have you always been like this?”

  “Yes,” Evra said.

  “He’s a snake-boy,” I explained.

  Debbie whirled fiercely on me. “That’s a horrible thing to say!” she snapped. “You shouldn’t call him names just because he looks different.”

  “I wasn’t calling him —” I began, but she interrupted.

  “How would you like it if somebody made fun of that stupid costume you wear?” she fumed. I looked down at my suit. “Oh, yes!” she sneered. “I could have said plenty about that crazy getup, but I didn’t. I figured, if you wanted to look like something out of Peter Pan, that was your choice.”

  “It’s okay,” Evra said softly. “I am a snake-boy.” Debbie stared at Evra uncertainly. “I am, really,” he vowed. “I have many serpentine qualities: I shed my skin, I’m cold-blooded, I have snakelike eyes.”

  “Still,” Debbie said, “it’s not nice to be compared to a snake.”

  “It is if you like snakes.” Evra laughed.

  “Oh.” Debbie looked back at me, half ashamed. “Sorry,” she said.

  “It’s okay,” I said, secretly pleased that she’d reacted the way she had — it proved she wasn’t prejudiced.

  Debbie was fascinated by Evra and kept asking him questions. What did he eat? How often? Was he able to talk to snakes? After a while I told him to show her his tongue — he had a really long tongue and was able to stick it up his nose.

  “That’s the grossest, greatest thing I’ve ever seen!”

  Debbie howled when Evra demonstrated his nostril-licking abilities. “I wish I could do that. It’d freak the life out of everybody at school.”

  Eventually it was time to leave for the movies.

  “I won’t be back late ,” I told Evra.

  “Don’t rush on my account,” he said, and winked.

  It was a short walk to the cineplex, and we arrived in plenty of time for the start of the movie. We bought popcorn and drinks and headed in. We talked away to each other during the ads and previews.

  “I like your brother,” Debbie said. “He seems a little shy, but I guess that has to do with the way he looks.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Life hasn’t been easy for him.”

  “Is anybody else in your family snakelike?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “Evra’s one of a kind.”

  “Your mom isn’t unusual?” I’d told Debbie my mom and dad were divorced and that Evra and me spent half the year with each. “Or your dad?”

  I smiled. “Dad’s strange, too,” I said, “but not like Evra.”

  “When can I meet him?” she asked.

  “Soon,” I lied. Debbie had warmed immediately to the snake-boy, but how would she react to a vampire? I had a feeling she wouldn’t warm up to Mr. Crepsley, not if she knew what he was.

  The movie was a stupid romantic comedy. Debbie laughed more than me.

  We discussed the movie afterward as we walked back to the square. I pretended to like it more than I did. As we walked down a dark alley, Debbie took my hand in hers and held on to me for comfort, which made me feel great.

  “Aren’t you afraid of the dark?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. The alley seemed pretty bright to my vampire-enhanced eyes. “What is there to be afraid of?” I asked.

  She shivered. “I know it’s silly,” she said, “but I’m always half afraid a vampire or werewolf’s going to jump out and attack me.” She laughed. “Stupid, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I said, laughing weakly. “Stupid.”

  If only she knew....

  “Your nails are really long,” she commented.

  “Sorry,” I said. My nails were incredibly tough. Scissors couldn’t cut them. I had to chew on them with my teeth to keep them down.

  “No need to apologize,” she said.

  As we emerged from the alley, I felt her studying me by the light of the street lamps. “What are you looking at?” I asked.

  “There’s something different about you, Darren,” she mused. “It’s not something I can put my finger on.”

  I shrugged, trying to make light of it. “It’s because I’m so good-looking,” I joked.

  “No,” she said seriously. “It’s something inside you. I see it in your eyes sometimes.”

  I looked away. “You’re embarrassing me,” I grumbled.

  She gave my hand a squeeze. “My dad always says that. He says I’m too inquisitive. My mind’s always racing, and I’m always saying what’s on it. I should learn to keep quiet.”

  We arrived at the square and I walked Debbie to her door. I stood awkwardly on the front step, wondering what to do next.

  Debbie solved the problem for me.

  “Want to come in?” she asked.

  “Aren’t your parents home?” I responded.

  “That’s okay — they won’t mind. I’ll tell them you’re a friend of a friend.”

  “Well . . . okay,” I said. “If you’re sure.”

  “I am,” she said, smiling, then took my hand and opened the door.

  I was almost as nervous going in as I had been the night I crept down the cellar in the old theater in my hometown and stole Madam Octa from the sleeping Mr. Crepsley!

  Chapter Eight

  AS IT TURNED OUT, I had nothing to worry about. Debbie’s parents were as nice as she was. Their names were Jesse and Donna — they wouldn’t let me call them Mr. and Mrs. Hemlock — and they made me feel welcome as soon as I walked in.

  “Hello!” Jesse said, seeing me first as we entered the living room. “Who’s this?”

  “Mom, Dad, this is Darren,” Debbie said. “He’s a friend of Anne’s. I ran into him at the movies and invited him back. Is that okay?”

  “Sure,” Jesse said.
/>   “Of course,” Donna agreed. “We were about to have supper. Would you like some, Darren?”

  “If it’s no trouble,” I said.

  “No trouble at all,” she beamed. “Do you like meatloaf?”

  “It’s my favorite,” I told her. It wasn’t really, but I guessed it would pay to be polite.

  I told Jesse and Donna a little about myself as we ate.

  “What about school?” Jesse asked, like Debbie had before him.

  “My dad used to be a teacher,” I lied, having given some thought to the matter since yesterday. “He teaches Evra and me.”

  “More meatloaf, Darren?” Donna asked.

  “Yes, please,” I said. “It’s great.” It was, too. Much better than any meatloaf I’d had before. “What’s in it?”

  “A few extra spices,” Donna said, smiling proudly. “I used to be a chef.”

  “I wish they had someone like you in the hotel.” I sighed. “Their food isn’t very good.”

  I offered to wash the dishes when we were finished, but Jesse said he’d do them. “It’s my way of unwinding at the end of a hard day,” he explained. “Nothing I like better than scrubbing a few dirty dishes, polishing the banister and vacuuming the carpets.”

  “Is he kidding?” I asked Debbie.

  “Actually, no,” she said. “Okay if we go up to my room?” she asked.

  “Go ahead,” Donna told her. “But don’t chat for too long. We’ve got a couple of chapters of The Three Musketeers to finish, remember?”

  Debbie made a face. “All for one and one for all,” she groaned. “How exciting — I don’t think!”

  “You don’t like The Three Musketeers?” I asked.

  “Do you?”

  “Sure. I’ve seen the movie at least eight times.”

  “But did you ever read the book?” she asked.

  “No, but I read a comic book about them once.”

  Debbie shared a scornful glance with her mother, and the two burst out laughing.

  “I have to read a little of a so-called classic every night,” Debbie grumbled. “I hope you never learn just how boring those books can be.”

  “Be down soon,” she told her mother, then showed me the way upstairs.

  Her room was on the third floor. A big, pretty-empty room, with large closets and hardly any posters or decorations.

  “I don’t like feeling cluttered,” Debbie explained when she saw me looking around.

  There was a bare artificial Christmas tree in one corner of the room. There had been one in the living room, too, and I noticed a couple more in other rooms on my way up the stairs.

  “Why all the trees?” I asked.

  “Dad’s idea,” Debbie said. “He loves Christmas trees, so we get one for every room in the house. The ornaments are in little boxes underneath” — she pointed to a box under the tree — “and we open them on Christmas Eve and decorate the trees. It’s a nice way to pass the night, and it tires you out, so you fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillows.”

  “It sounds like fun,” I agreed wistfully, remembering what it had been like to decorate the Christmas tree at home with my family.

  Debbie studied me silently. “You could come over on Christmas Eve,” she said. “You and Evra. Your dad, too. You could help us with the trees.”

  I stared at her. “You mean that?”

  “Sure. I’d have to check with Mom and Dad first, but I doubt if they’d mind. We’ve had friends over to help before. It’s nicer with more people.”

  I was happy that she’d asked me, but I hesitated before accepting.

  “Should I ask them?” she said.

  “I’m not sure if I’ll still be here at Christmas. Mr. Cre — Dad is unpredictable. He goes wherever the job takes him, whenever.”

  “Well, the offer’s there,” she said. “If you’re here, great. If not” — she shrugged — “we’ll manage by ourselves.”

  We got talking about Christmas presents. “Are you going to get the CD player for Evra?” Debbie asked.

  “Yeah. And a few CDs, too.”

  “That just leaves your dad,” she said. “What are you getting him?”

  I thought about Mr. Crepsley and what he might like. I wasn’t going to buy him anything — he’d only turn up his nose at presents — but it was interesting to consider what I could buy him. What was there that a vampire could possibly be interested in?

  I started to smile. “I know,” I said. “I’ll get him a sun lamp.”

  “A sun lamp?” Debbie frowned.

  “So he can work up a tan.” I began to laugh. “He’s pretty pale. He doesn’t get much sun.”

  Debbie couldn’t understand why I was laughing so hard. I would have liked to let her in on the joke — it would be worth buying the sun lamp just to see the disgusted expression on the vampire’s face — but didn’t dare.

  “You have a weird sense of humor,” she muttered, bewildered.

  “Trust me,” I said, “if you knew my dad, you’d know why I was laughing.” I was going to tell Evra about my idea when I got home: he’d be able to appreciate it.

  We chatted for another hour or so. Then it was time for me to go.

  “Well?” Debbie said, as I stood up. “Don’t I get a good-night kiss?”

  I thought I was going to collapse.

  “I...um...I mean...that is...” I became a stuttering wreck.

  “Don’t you want to kiss me?” Debbie asked.

  “Yes!” I gasped quickly. “It’s just ...I...um...”

  “Hey, forget it,” Debbie said, shrugging. “I don’t care one way or the other.” She got up. “I’ll show you out.”

  We walked quickly down the stairs. I wanted to say goodbye to Jesse and Donna, but Debbie didn’t give me the chance. She went straight to the front door and opened it. I was still trying to get back into my coat.

  “Can I come over tomorrow?” I asked, struggling to find the left arm of the coat.

  “Sure, if you want to,” she said.

  “Look, Debbie,” I said, “I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you. I’m just —”

  “Scared?” she asked, smiling.

  “Yeah,” I admitted.

  She laughed. “Okay,” she said. “You can come over tomorrow. I want you to. Only, next time be a little braver, okay?” And she closed the door behind me.

  Chapter Nine

  I LINGERED ON THE STEP for a long time, feeling stupid. I started back for the hotel but was reluctant to return — I didn’t want to admit to Evra how dumb I’d been. So I walked around the square a couple of times, letting the cold night air fill my lungs and clear my head.

  I was supposed to meet Debbie the next day, but suddenly I felt like I couldn’t wait that long. My mind made up, I stopped in front of her house and looked around to make sure I wasn’t being watched. I couldn’t see anybody, and with my superior eyesight I was sure no one could see me.

  I slipped off my shoes and climbed the drainpipe that ran down the front of the house. The window to Debbie’s room was three or four feet from the pipe, so when I came level with it, I dug my tough nails into the brick of the building and clawed my way across.

  I hung just beneath the window and waited for Debbie to appear.

  About twenty minutes later, the light in Debbie’s room clicked on. I knocked softly on the glass with my bare knuckles, then knocked again a little harder. Footsteps approached.

  Debbie opened the curtains a little and stared out, confused. It took her a few seconds to look down and notice me. When she did, she almost collapsed with surprise.

  “Open the window,” I said, mouthing the words clearly in case she couldn’t hear me. Nodding, she dropped to her knees and shoved up the lower pane of glass.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed. “What are you holding on to?”

  “I’m floating on air,” I joked.

  “You’re crazy,” Debbie said. “You’ll slip and fall.”

  “I’m totally safe,
” I assured her. “I’m a good climber.”

  “You must be freezing,” she said, spotting my feet. “Where are your shoes? Come in, quick, before you —”

  “I don’t want to come in,” I interrupted. “I climbed up because...well...I...” I took a deep breath. “Is the offer still on?” “What offer?” Debbie asked. “The offer of a kiss,” I said. Debbie blinked, then smiled. “You are crazy.” She laughed. “One hundred percent crazy,” I agreed. “You went to all this trouble just for that?” she asked. I nodded. “You could have knocked on the door,” she said. “I didn’t think of that.” I smiled. “So — how about it?” “I suppose you deserve one,” she said, “but quickly, okay?”

  “All right,” I agreed.

  Debbie stuck her head out. I leaned forward, heart beating, and pecked her lips.

  She smiled. “Worth coming up for?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said. I was shaking, and it wasn’t from the cold.

  “Here,” she said. “Here’s another one.”

  She kissed me sweetly, and I almost lost my grip on the wall.

  When she moved away, she was smiling mysteriously. In the reflection of the dark glass, I saw myself grinning like an idiot.

  “See you tomorrow, Romeo,” she said.

  “Tomorrow,” I sighed happily.

  As the window shut and the curtains closed, I climbed down, delighted with myself. I practically bounced back to the hotel. I was almost at the door before I remembered my shoes. Hurrying back, I retrieved them, shook the snow off, and shoved them on.

  By the time I got to the hotel, I had regained my composure. I opened the door of my room and entered. Evra was watching TV. He was focused on the screen and barely noticed me coming in.

  “I’m back,” I said, taking off my coat. He didn’t reply. “I’m back!” I repeated, louder.

  “Um,” he grunted, waving distractedly at me.

  “That’s a great attitude,” I said. “I thought you’d be interested in how the night went. I’ll know better next time. In the future, I’ll just —”

  “Have you seen the news?” Evra asked quietly.

  “It may surprise you to learn, young Evra Von,” I said sarcastically, “that they don’t show newsreels at the movies anymore. Now do you want to hear about my date or not?”